Something to Rely On
by TangiblyYours
Summary: "Within a matter of hours, the six of them were on the highway with no real destination in mind whatsoever. Richie hadn't planned on going on an impulsive, God-only-knows-how-long road trip with his buddies from grade school only two days after killing a fucking clown...And yet, here he was." Or, Richie and Eddie go on a road trip together and get everything they ever wanted.
1. oh, simple thing, where have you gone?

**Title: **Something to Rely On

**Summary: "**Within a matter of hours, the six of them were on the highway with no real destination in mind whatsoever. Richie hadn't planned on going on an impulsive, God-only-knows-how-long road trip with his buddies from grade school only two days after killing a fucking clown...And yet, here he was."

Or, Richie and Eddie go on a road trip together and get everything they ever wanted.

**Warnings: **Richie Tozier's fantastically vulgar mouth and some mild insinuations, but that's it.

**Disclaimer: **Do not own this franchise, am not Stephen King.

**Note: **I recommend checking out my story 'Somewhere to Begin' before reading; I guess it's not required but everything will make a lot more sense. It Chapter two explained from my perspective to get us here. This is a fix-it.

* * *

Chapter One: oh, simple thing, where have you gone?

* * *

Richie Tozier had nightmares.

All-consuming nightmares; the kind that would devour you from the inside out, creeping in during a moment of peace, right when you least expected it. Nightmares that would saturate every bone and muscle fiber in your body. Nightmares that would make you run cold with fear, locked in place and unable to move.

The kind of nightmares that would have even the most composed and levelheaded man jolting awake in fear. And Richie certainly had neither one of those qualities about himself.

Without fail, every single night, Richie Tozier had those nightmares.

Despite the fact that they had just defeated Pennywise only two nights prior, Richie's experience with the nightmares was nothing new to him. However, they had altered drastically since that night's events. Now when he woke up, he was breathing heavily with Eddie's name on the tip of his tongue. Grasping at a mere ghost of the nightmare as it replayed the scene he had witnessed in the deadlights.

Before the call from Mike Hanlon about a week ago, Richie still had the nightmares. However, when he would wake up he would remember virtually nothing of what had happened within the dream. Just a cold fear so deep it weighed heavily inside his stomach and made him feel ill.

Now, though, he awoke remembering every deep, dark aspect to the horrible dreams. He could almost taste the thick iron tang of blood on his lips, even though that specific moment was long in his past. He could smell the rot from the sewer, feel the moisture clinging to his clothes. It was all too real, and when he woke up, startled and alone in his bed, it took a long time for the fear to dissipate, clinging to him as the water and filth had clung to him in the dream.

As he awoke from this particular nightmare, two nights after finally defeating Pennywise on Neibolt street, Richie yet again had Eddie's name on his tongue, fear coiling deep in his chest.

He blinked several times to clear the sleep from his eyes, and glanced carefully around his quiet room at the Townhouse in Derry, Maine. Taking a deep breath, he laid back in bed once more.

His return flight home hadn't even been booked yet and even Richie didn't know why at this point. The reason for his return was no more, and somehow the fear and nightmares were significantly worse in this little hell-hole town, but still, Richie hadn't made any real attempt to get out.

He told himself he didn't know what was holding him back, but oh yes, he did.

_Eddie_.

The name was still balanced carefully on the tip of his tongue.

And not just Eddie, either, but the rest of his friends, too. They were all still in Derry, just casually dancing around each other and the fact that their darkest fears had come to a final head two days ago.

Not a single one of them had so much as mentioned leaving yet.

And not a single one of them knew what they were waiting for.

Likely, it had to do with the fact that they had all just gotten each other back after all these years of forgotten memories. They didn't want to leave again so quickly, equally afraid that the memories of each other would be lost once more.

So, instead, they stayed. And for now, Richie thought, that was enough.

* * *

The next morning, Richie met everyone in the lobby of the townhouse. It was quiet as usual, but there was something mildly different hanging in the air, something lighter, happier even.

"Why are we all still so miserable?" Ben had started, looking around the room. "We did it, guys! It's finally fucking gone!"

The unspoken words hung in the air between them. We lost one of our own in the process. _Stanley_.

Ben faltered, sitting in one of the arm chairs and sighing deeply.

"I have an idea," Bill mumbled from where he was perched on one of the bar stools. "Let's get out of here. B-but, like... together." He stood then, addressing everyone in the room, his eyes sweeping from Richie to Ben to Bev to Eddie and settling carefully on Mike. "That's what we're all worried ab-b-bout, right? Leaving and forgetting each other again? So, let's leave this shithole town together and take a trip, somewhere n-nice, and really catch up before we go home." Bill became more animated as he spoke, gesturing his excitement and pacing carefully back and forth. "We'll make it a yearly thing. Just in case the loss of memory had nothing to do with Pennywise. W-w-we'll muh-make sure we d-don't forget again."

Richie watched him before glancing around the room. Looking into the faces of his friends, his family that, up until a week ago, he had forgotten virtually every aspect of. He didn't want to lose this again, he didn't want to lose them.

And his subconscious added to that thought as his gaze settled on Eddie. _I don't want to lose him._

"Bill, count me down, buddy!" he enthused, standing from his spot in the armchair. "You losers coming with us?"

Ben glanced up to Bev. She had perched herself on the arm of Ben's chair, and she was smiling, bright and warm. "I think that sounds like a great idea," she said and her gaze cut down to Ben. He smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm in," he spoke to the rest of them.

Bill turned his glance to Mike.

"Y'know, I've been needing to get out of this town for a long time. I think this is it." Mike's smile was open and carefree, probably for the first time in a very long while.

Everyone's gaze turned to Eddie in that moment. Richie couldn't help himself as he stared the other man up and down. He had a gauze bandage carefully tapped to his wounded cheek, and a dark black and blue eye. Richie suspected the black eye had come from when they tumbled backwards off from the rocky incline under Neibolt.

A shudder ran down his spine as he thought of that moment, as he thought about the near miss that would have resulted in the loss of not just one, but _two _of the most important people in his life. He shook his head to clear the thought.

After they had escaped the house and watched it tumble to the ground, Richie had been a mess. There was no other words for it, his breathing had been erractic, and a giant hole had taken over his stomach. He felt empty with fear, unable to process and adjust.

Eddie had almost died, it had been so fucking close. Just a hair to the right and a moment too late, and it would have been all over for him. '_For them_,' Richie's thoughts filled in gently.

It took every single one of his friends to calm him down, all of them eventually reaching out to him, supporting him. And it took a while, but soon, Richie's breathing evened pace and he was able to calm his nerves.

And while he would never admit it to himself, or anyone else for that matter, he had followed Eddie around all day like a lost damn puppy. Just needing the constant reminder that he was there, he was okay, he was alive.

Before Mike Hanlon's call, it had been a very, very long time since Richie had thought of-remembered-his friends from Derry. However, after having received the phone call, memories had filtered into his mind one by one, filling him with emotions he hadn't even been aware existed. And these memories weren't just basic facts that his mind had forgotten about, no.

Suddenly, he was able to recall every feeling, every fear, every moment of joy and gut-wrenching laughter, every moment of bone-crushing sadness. In the moments after that phone call, Richie was quite literally assaulted with these feelings. This all-consuming warmth, comfort, love, terror, agony, sadness, all at once. All things he felt from that summer of '89, and even though it had been over 27 years ago, it _felt _as though it had been only a moment's time since it had happened.

The sensation was so potent that it felt as though he had been punched in the gut.

And it didn't stop, these feelings and emotions and memories. They flooded his mind, making it their home, so many of them it felt as though his simple memories from even that morning were long in his past, now consumed by these thoughts of his childhood.

He was filled with this awareness, this warmth that he hadn't even known he was missing. He felt whole suddenly.

He remembered Bill's stutter, his leadership role among them. He remembered the dark pain that has existed in Bill's eyes the summer after Georgie's death. It was almost as though the other boy had been perpetually plagued by the absence of his brother and a guilt he had inexplicably harbored.

He remembered Ben's compassion and warmth. The first time they met when he had realized just how lonely Ben was, and how he suspected that Ben was one of the missing pieces to their little puzzle.

He remembered Beverly. The girl who would sneak cigarettes with him and match every crude joke he tossed her way. When they first met, she had come across as subdued and quiet. However, Richie had quickly learned that Beverly had a fire in her soul that would not, _could not_, be extinguished.

He remembered Mike. The structure and support he had provided. He had been the last one to join their little group, and as soon as he was there, it was as though they were _whole._

He remembered Stanley. Quite, humble, careful Stanley. Always watching out for them and keeping close tabs on the people he loved so thoroughly. He remembered the time when Richie had tossed an exceptionally vulgar comment Stanley's way, and Stanley glanced at him, barely even reacting, and slapped Richie upside the head in a way that was almost fond. He tried so hard to hide his grin, but Richie had caught it.

And, finally, he remembered Eddie.

He remembered Eddie's neuroticism. The way he was shove at Richie every time Richie threatened to lick the side of his face _just because _he knew how much it grossed Eddie out.

He remembered Eddie's spitfire personality, his temper, his short fuse that Richie just loved to light so he could watch the slow detonation.

He remembered Eddie's warmth and compassion. How if Richie ever did falter, breaking his character, and needed a shoulder to lean on or someone to listen, Eddie was always fucking there. Even if it was three in the morning on a school night. If Richie called, Eddie was _there._

He remembered the games they would play, how they would shove at each other, taunt each other, curse back and forth as though they were sailors. Eddie never let Richie get away with anything; he was always able to bounce back with an equally biting comment. And Richie fucking _loved_ it.

They would fight with each other incessantly.

And Richie remembered the way the two of them had almost always used that as an excuse to be touching.

He remembered poking Eddie's side until it annoyed him so much that he would inevitably tackle Richie to the ground. They would wrestle with each other, and most of the time, it would result in Richie tickling Eddie until the other could no longer breath. He remembered watching movies with the losers every Friday night at Bill's house, and how Eddie _always _sat next to him. About three forths of the way through the movie, Eddie would always fall asleep and bury himself into Richie's side, Richie's arm draped over the Eddie's shoulders and Eddie's face tucked carefully into Richie's chest.

He remembered how he watched Eddie, always. How his gaze would instinctively follow Eddie, and how Richie almost seemed to move unconsciously with and towards him at all times.

He remembered the feelings of warmth he had when he was with Eddie, a feeling of wholeness, of _home._ He rememebered it so fervently that his stomach ached with the realization he couldn't reach out and touch Eddie in that exact moment. _How _had he possibly forgotten this?

At that time, still at his home in L.A., Richie wondered just how long he had loved Eddie and had not known it.

Richie was pulled from his thoughts in that moment, as Eddie's gaze settled on him. It grounded him to where he stood, and Richie felt a hot surge of electricity course down his spine. Not for the first time in even the last twenty minutes, Richie wanted, almost _needed_, to reach out and touch him.

"Of course," Eddie spoke, his gaze still focused solely on Richie. "I'll follow you guys anywhere."

* * *

"Listen." Eddie's hushed voice could just barely be heard from where Richie stood outside of Eddie's guest room at the townhouse. Their rooms had been right next to one another, and he figured he would wait for him before heading down to check out and meet with the others. The door to Eddie's room was cracked opened. Richie had entertained the idea of going in, but thought better of it once he realized he was on the phone. "I know I didn't say much when I was leaving-"

Pause.

"-yes, Myra, I _know._" Eddie sounded exasperated, like he was reaching a tipping point.

A longer pause this time.

"_Listen,_" Eddie said again, a little more forceful. Richie shifted awkwardly where he stood in the hall. "I really don't know what to tell you, Myra?" He said this as a question, but the tone of his voice left zero room for negotiating. "This is happening whether you want it to or not. Honestly, I don't know when I'll be home," Eddie paused, as though thinking for a moment. "And, honestly, Myra, we really need to sit down and talk when I get home. A few things have changed since I've been home."

Silence now; Richie could only wonder what the other half of this conversation sounded like.

"Yeah, I know I sound different!" Eddie stated dully. "I am different, and it's really not a conversation for over the phone, alright? There's a lot going on here that you don't know about. Honestly, that I didn't even know about until a few days ago."

Richie peeked his head around the corner of the doorway to glance inside the guest room. Eddie was pacing back and forth, and had the phone pulled away from his head by a few inches as though the person on the other end was shouting. He raised his other hand and ran it through his hair. Richie followed the movement with his eyes.

All of a sudden, Eddie halted his movement. He turned from where he was standing to face the door of the guest room, as though he could sense that someone was watching him. As soon as he realized Richie was there, he offered a sheepish smile before returning to his pacing.

"Yeah, I don't know what to tell you," Eddie stated again into the phone. "Listen, I've got to go. I've got people waiting for me. Like I said, we'll talk when I get home."

And with that, Eddie clicked the end button on the phone. Not a single '_good-bye_' or '_love you, Myra_', and not even the slightest hint of affection in his words. Somehow, that made Richie smile.

Within a moment, Eddie was in the doorway to the guest room, his several packed bags being carted behind him. "Sorry about that," Eddie started, small smile still in place as he glanced up at Richie. "Figured I should probably give at least a little bit of a heads up I might not be home for a while."

Richie nodded, throwing one arm around Eddie's shoulders and taking one of his bags from him. After all, Richie only had a small duffel. Maybe he really should have packed a bit more, but he hadn't planned on going on an impulsive, God-only-knows-how-long road trip with his buddies from grade school.

"What's the matter, Eds?" Richie taunted. He turned to glance at Eddie once more, and in his next few words, spoke in the old, uppity British accent from his childhood. The voice had been long from his past and forgotten much like everything else. "Trouble in paradise, Eds, ay, wot-wot?"

Surprisingly, Eddie didn't react much to Richie's provocation. Rather, he seemed to lean into Richie's side and scowl at the ground. "Something like that," he muttered. "Y'know, I don't think I've been happy in that relationship for a long time...or life in general, really...but I didn't realize just _how _unhappy I was until I started to remember and until I got here."

Richie knew what Eddie was talking about. It was almost as though Richie didn't even really, truly know himself until he got that call from Mike and started to remember the pieces of himself that he had been missing. It was catastrophic, knowing he had gone through a large portion of his life missing such instrinsic pieces of who he was.

"Like," Eddie started again as they continued to move to the lobby. "She's just like my mother. Which, apparently, I had completely forgotten about, as well. When I left Derry, I guess a majority of my mother's neuroses got left behind alongside my memories," he paused again, sounding irritated. "I basically married my fucking mother and I had no idea. I can't fucking go back to that."

At that, Richie threw his head back in laughter. "Well, look at that!" Richie chortled. "We're almost the same, Eds! I married your mother, too! But, like...your real one."

Eddie threw his elbow deep into Richie's side, and Richie recoiled but used the arm that was slung over Eddie's shoulder to pull his head down and ruffle his hair. He laughed carelessly as Eddie continued to jab into his side, trying to get him to stop fucking with his hair.

As they walked, they borderline wrestled with each other down the entire hallway. As soon as Eddie was able to lift his head from Richie's grasp, he reached out and shoved him into the wall. Richie bounced back without even a moment of hesitation and knocked into Eddie, trying desperately to catch the other in a headlock again.

It was like this that they entered the lobby to the townhouse, all of their friends waiting and watching from the bar.

"F-finally," Bill exclaimed, jumping from his spot on one of the bar stools. "Let's get this sh-show on the road!"

* * *

The few of them that had rented vehicles from the airport returned them, and the others (Bill and Ben who had taken respective cabs from their flight, and Mike who obviously hadn't needed transportation at all) road along with them.

Once they all arrived at the rental company and returned their vehicles, they decided that purchasing a different rental to fit them all would be their most productive course of action. After discussing with the attendant for a while, they settled on a Chevrolet Tahoe with unlimited miles to travel anywhere within the United States. They even discussed other locations of the rental company that they could return the vehicle to if they decided not to come back this way at all.

Within a matter of hours, the six of them were on the highway with no real destination in mind whatsoever.

They had decided they would all take turns driving, and at night, they would bunk up in hotels.

"So where should we head first?" Bill started. All of them, including Bill himself, seemed to notice how the farther away from Derry he got, the more his stutter seemed to improve. It was still there, but marginally less noticeable during a casual conversation.

Bill was the first to drive and Mike was in the passenger seat; in the center was Ben and Beverly, and in the very back was Eddie and Richie. Eddie had moaned when they had decided how the seating for the drive would go, but it was halfhearted, and Richie could tell it was just for show.

"Eddie," Beverly had said at the time. "Let's be real here, you're the only one of us that can put up with being next to him for that long."

"Ey, babe!" Richie yelped. "I'll be right behind you, I can still reach around to annoy you, too!"

Mike had chuckled. "Richie, somehow, I think you'll still be able to annoy all of us."

They had also decided unanimously and regardless of Eddie's opposition that they would room together when stopping for the night. It would be Ben and Beverly (obviously-everyone could see the direction their relationship was going in just the past two days alone), Bill and Mike, and Richie and Eddie. "It's perfect!" Ben had exclaimed, holding onto Bev's hand and smiling foolishly at her.

Richie had slung his arm around Eddie's shoulder for approximately the fourth time in the last two hours and made _smooching _noises in his direction. "Just so _perfect_, Eddie Spaghetti!" Eddie had simply scowled and pushed Richie away also for approximately the fourth time in the last two hours.

Everyone around them had laughed, Eddie had tried to hide his smile, and Richie absolutely could not control his beaming smile.

* * *

The first real place they stopped (not just for gas or snacks or to use the restroom) was Claremont, New Hampshire.

They had been driving for almost five hours, it was slowly approaching 6 in the afternoon, and all of them were combating stomach pangs of hunger with leftover chips and candy from their previous pit stops.

"Do you guys want to stop here for the night? Or just stop for a bite to eat and get back on the road?" Bill had questioned as they got out of the vehicle.

They had pulled up to this little diner with a real homey look to it. There weren't too many vehicles in the parking lot and there was a roadside message board in front stating that they had the best custard in all of New Hampshire. Richie had all but squawked his excitement and demanded that Bill pull over.

Eddie crawled from the back of the Tahoe and stretched carefully, trying to remove the kinks from his back. "Well, I found a pretty reasonably priced hotel in Albany if you guys wanna drive a couple more hours west. Have we decided our destination yet, or are we just driving until we find it?"

Richie was next to crawl from the car, and tried not to stare at the spot where Eddie's shirt rode up just a little as he stretched, exposing a layer of milky, smooth flesh on his stomach. Richie's stomach ached a little, and he thought maybe this time had nothing to do with hunger. _At least not the conventional type._

"Albany sounds good to me," Mike started. "We'll have made two states away from that hell-hole. The farther, the better, if you ask me."

Everyone was standing outside of the Tahoe, casually discussing their trip, and Richie thought he was about to die. "Can we take this conversation inside? I think my stomach is about to open itself up and consume Eddie here if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "You're so fucking dramatic," he said as he turned and started walking toward the diner entrance. Richie all but bounced and followed him in.

* * *

About three and a half hours later, they were pulling into the hotel in Albany.

Eddie had been able to reserve three rooms online while they were eating at the little diner in Claremont. Richie had proclaimed that _'yes! they do have the best custard in all of New Hampshire!_' even though he had absolutely nothing to compare it to.

The hotel they were staying at was affordable and in a fairly large part of the city. They figured they could get up and check out in time for a decent breakfast and perhaps shop around downtown a little before getting back on the road.

They checked into their respective room by 10 p.m. and virtually all of them were in a deep slumber by 10:30 p.m., completely wiped from their day on the road. And, admittedly, having to listen to Richie chat through the whole fucking car ride.

Eddie, however, laid awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering mindlessly if Richie was asleep in the bed next to his.

He hadn't even had time to turn and look before he heard a quiet '_Eddie?_' come from the other side of the room.

"Yeah?" Eddie whispered, quietly even though it was not needed. They were the only two in the room, and they were both obviously still awake.

"Do you have nightmares?"

At this, Eddie turned in his bed to face Richie and rested his head on his elbow for support. "Yeah, of course, I do. I figured we all did."

"Did you have nightmares before Mike called?" Richie sounded...oddly small. Eddie couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

He thought for a minute. "Yeah. I did. I would just wake up and not be able to remember them." It took another moment of deep thought before he opened his mouth again. "I think I used to dream about you guys a lot. About you guys getting hurt, or taken... I would wake up with this fear, this ache in my chest and it was like something was missing and I could never figure out what it was. It was like I was scared to lose something that I didn't know existed..." he paused. "Scared to lose something that I already lost."

Even though it was dark in the room, Eddie could see the movement of Richie's head as he nodded, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

"Me, too." Richie had turned to face him as well, only about three feet of distance separating their two beds. If Eddie had reached out far enough, he thought he could have maybe touched Richie's arm. "I have them every night, have for as long as I can remember. That's why I never wanted to get into a serious relationship. Never wanted to try and explain nightmares I didn't even know why I had."

"I don't sleep in the same room as Myra," Eddie stated. "Haven't for a long fucking time."

Richie was quiet once more, thoughtful. "If you're not happy, Eds, why do you stay?"

"I'm not planning on it," Eddie started, and remembered that Richie had been outside of the door for at least a portion of the conversation he had with his wife earlier in the day. "That's why I told her we need to talk when I get home. Honestly, I can't keep living the way I have been. Not after remembering all of this. Not knowing what I know now."

Much like Richie, when Eddie started to recall all of his memories from Derry, all of the emotions came with, full-force.

Suddenly, he remembered this life he hadn't even known existed and it had changed him inexplicably and irrevocably. Knowing what he now knew, knowing the feelings that he harbored deep in his chest, there was no way he could ever go back to being with Myra.

When Eddie started to remember his past, he remembered vivid aspects of who he was that he had actually _tried _to forget when he was growing up.

Eddie was not attracted to women. Not in any way, shape, or form.

Eddie was pulled from his thoughts as he heard Richie take a deep, shuddering breath in the bed across from him. "My nightmares have been worse in the past couple days. I don't think it's just 'cause I can remember them now," Richie paused, careful, cautious. "I think it's because of what happened."

And Richie doesn't have to elaborate for Eddie to know exactly what he was referring to. Eddie could still feel the ghost of the talon scrap across his back as Richie had pulled him down and away from the threat. He could still feel himself being all but tossed backwards and down the rocky slope of the cavern beneath Neibolt.

The way the Richie had grasped onto him in that moment, as they had stopped moving, was desperate and terrified. As though the other man was aware of their fate if he didn't keep pulling them in the opposite direction. And maybe he was, Eddie thought, they certainly hadn't talked about it. Especially after the thorough melt down that Richie had in the cavern and again on the street outside of the house. No one had dared mention it, too afraid to dredge up any residual fear within him. Richie had been utterly _wrecked_. And it had taken a long time to talk him down from his fear.

Eddie simply hummed in response to Richie's statement, unsure of what to say. Afraid to push the conversation, afraid to address it in general, honestly.

Richie clenched his eyes shut. He seemed delicate in that moment, Eddie thought, and Richie was not _delicate. _Anything but. However, when they had pulled him from Neibolt, and in those moments right before and right after, Richie had been even more than delicate. He had been already broken, at that point.

"I had seen it all," Richie whispered suddenly, and Eddie had to lean impossibly closer to the edge of the bed to even be able to hear. "I had seen it happen."

No one had asked Richie after that afternoon. No one had asked him what he had meant when he had been shouting on the street of Neibolt. No one had tried to understand what the other had gone through.

So, Eddie, in that moment, was fairly unaware of what Richie was even talking about. He knew a little, but not enough to understand the full picture.

"What did you see, Richie?" Eddie asked carefully.

Richie opened his eyes then, and his bright blue irises cut into the darkness to focus on Eddie. He could see the nerves that shone within them. "I saw him kill you, Eds."

And that much, Eddie did know. He remembered the words that Richie had shouted at Bill on the street corner: '_he killed him, Bill! I saw it, he killed him!" _However, that was _all _Eddie knew, and it seemed like Richie, in this moment, wanted to explain more.

"I know," Eddie whispered, trying his hardest to sound pacifying.

"I know I told you guys that I saw it, but...I don't think you understand. I saw it, and it was _real_. He killed you, and if I hadn't of seen it, it would have _happened_." Richie sounded just slightly out of breath. "Remember how when Bev was caught in the deadlights when we were thirteen? And how just a few days ago she said that during that she had seen every single one of us die? That's what I saw, Eddie, I saw how you were about to die."

Eddie watched Richie cautiously, afraid to move or talk. He could see the fear in Richie's eyes, hear it in every word he spoke.

"It felt so fucking real, Eds. Like, I don't even know how to explain in. And I couldn't move or do anything. That talon went right through your chest, and I could _feel _warm blood on my face, _fuck! _I could _taste _it. And it was honestly one of the worst things I've ever experienced in my entire life..." he paused, thoughtful. "And, I mean, I've had sex with your mom, so?"

At that, there was a noticeable shift in the room. A tension had been building between them since the moment they had started talking, but now it seemed to shatter. And, suddenly, Eddie was laughing.

And Richie was, too. The fear in his eyes was now replaced by this happiness, as though the conversation hadn't happened at all; or maybe that it had happened but he had realized that it was in their past now and the threat was no longer there.

As his laughter subsided, Eddie's eyes caught Richie's once more. And there was this warmth there, this adoration, and Eddie felt his heart tug tight in his chest. His chuckles tapered off slowly, and his eyes felt as though they held the same mixture of emotion as Richie's. "But I'm alright, buddy. It didn't happen. Everything's good now."

To punctuate his point, Eddie reached his hand out into the space between their two beds, a silent invitation.

Without even a moment of hesitation, Richie reached across and grasped onto Eddie's hand.

Within moments, they were asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Richie awoke to the sound of someone banging on the door.

He jolted upright, and without even being aware that his and Eddie's hands were still clasped in the empty space between the two beds, yanked his arm away.

As such, Richie yanked hard enough, while also grasping tightly to Eddie's hand, that he inadvertently and unintentionally pulled Eddie off from his bed entirely and onto the floor.

Eddie had awaken as he was being pulled roughly off from his bed. He sat up from where he had fallen onto the floor, rubbed his head that had casually hit the nightstand on his way down, and glared up at Richie. He squinted against the harsh sunlight that was coming in from behind the curtain. "Jesus, fuck, Richie!"

There was banging at the door once more, and Richie catapulted himself off from the bed to answer it.

As soon as he stopped at the door, Richie pulled it open to reveal Bill, Mike, Ben, and Beverly, all dressed, packed, and ready to go.

Bill's jaw dropped slightly, seeing the frazzled man in his pajamas, "you're not ready, yet!"

Ben glanced around Richie and into the room and chuckled. He pulled Bev over so she could see and pointed at where Eddie still sat on the floor between the two beds, carefully rubbing his skull.

"Rough night, boys?" Bev teased.

"Oh, fuck off, Beverly," Eddie grumbled. "I just got man-handled onto the floor because of your impatient asses."

"Man-handled, ay?" Ben retorted while Bev made an '_ooooo_' sound. Eddie curtly flipped them off and pushed himself off from the floor. Neither one of them offered any further explanation as to why Eddie was on the floor.

Richie rubbed his eyes, and glanced around the room to find a clock. "What time is it?"

"It's almost noon, Richie," Mike said. "Check out was literally an hour ago, and we went to breakfast without you guys."

At that, Eddie started coughing excessively from where he was pouring a glass of water from the sink. "What the fuck? It's fucking _noon?_"

Realizing it was going to be a little while before they were ready to leave, Bill, Ben, Bev, and Mike all pushed their way past Richie and sat on the little sofa in the room.

"Yeah, what kept you guys up so late last night?" Bev asked with a lilt to her voice, her insinuation obvious in her tone.

This time it was Richie's turn to flip her off, and he casually walked over to his small duffel in search of a pair of jeans and his tooth brush. "Shove it, Bev, I couldn't sleep."

"So you made Eddie not sleep, too, then?" Ben replied with a grin.

Hearing his name, Eddie turned toward the group and rolled his eyes. He leaned carefully against the little kitchenette counter. "Oh for fuck's sake, does anyone have a Tylenol? My head's killing me." His glare turned back to Richie. "Motherfucker, I can't believe to pulled me onto the floor."

Richie waved his hand dismissively. "Right-o, chap!" Richie belted out in his poor British accent. "You heard the man! Time to move! Tally-ho, and all that rot!" With that, Richie turned into the bathroom and slammed the door.

"Richie! That doesn't even make any sense!" Mike shouted.

Eddie simply pouted and rubbed once more at his aching head.

* * *

About an hour later, they were all standing in the parking lot.

"It's your turn to drive, Richie!"

"No, Eddie, they said it's _our _turn to drive!"

"And you can go first because my head still fucking hurts from hitting the nightstand!"

"It's not _my_ fault you hit your head."

"_Really?_" Eddie all but growled. "How was that not your fucking fault, Richie!?"

The rest of their group stood watching with a building sense of trepidation. Admittedly, this was a typical experience with Eddie and Richie; they were always arguing-it was inevitable.

However, the four of them could only imagine how the next 12 hours of driving would go.

"Hey," Mike said, stepping forward to capture Richie and Eddie's attention. The two of them had been facing each other with Richie looking like he was about to keel over in laughter and Eddie looking like he was about to kill Richie. "I have an idea...Rock, paper, scissors."

It was a pacifying gesture that Mike prayed would work.

Eddie rolled his eyes, and balled his hand into a fist.

One round, two round, and Richie won, shouting a triumphant '_ha!_' while Eddie groaned out '_fuck you, Richie.'_

* * *

Their first real stop of the day was in Poughkeepsie, New York.

Everyone other than Eddie and Richie were already seeking refuge from their bickering only two hours into their drive, and Richie had demanded they pull off because he liked the name of the town.

"How can you like the name of a town, you fucking pinhead?" Eddie had mumbled, exiting the vehicle.

It was about 3:30 in the afternoon and they had all decided to have an early dinner so they could focus on driving for the next several hours. It had been a late start for their day, and Bill suggested they try to make it to West Virginia before stopping for the night.

"It's about a 7 hour drive from here to Morgantown, West Virginia. We could probably pull off there for the night," Beverly said as she glaced at her Google maps.

They still hadn't discussed where it was exactly they were driving to. At this point, they were just driving in whichever direction seemed right at the time.

"We'd get there about midnight," Ben figured. "Is that good with everyone else? Eddie, can you look up hotels after dinner while Richie drives?"

"Oy!" Richie pipped up. "Who said it's my turn to drive now! He only drove for two hours, I have to drive for seven?"

"It's because they're hoping that you'll be too focused on driving to talk," Eddie laughed and reach over to shove Richie as they walked toward the restuarant they had stopped at.

And it was ironic, really. Because Eddie's mouth could be just as bad as Richie's when the two of them were together.

Bill and the others followed them close behind. "_No, Richie,_" Bill moaned, exasperated. "We're not expecting you to drive seven hours. We'll throw you two in the back after a couple hours. Maybe you guys can take a fuckin' nap."

It was good-natured and teasing, as always, and everyone was laughing. They all loved to give Eddie and Richie endless shit about their bickering.

As they entered the restaurant, they all watched as Eddie continued to shove Richie, which only resulted in Richie shoving him right back. They instigated each other on a daily basis; there was a demand for attention from each other that was tangible in the air between them. A need to close the space that existed there.

Everyone seemed to be aware of it. Except for the two of them, of course.

And, no, a casual conversation between the two would not suffice, thank you very much.

It was a sizzling, hot _need _to be touching.

Despite how much Richie and Eddie (mostly Eddie) acted bothered by the other-it really couldn't be farther from the truth. In any given scenario, if given a choice, Richie would pick Eddie and Eddie would pick Richie. Every time. Ten of out ten.

Beverly simply rolled her eyes as they walked to their seats. Eddie and Richie were the first to the large 8 person table that the waiter had seated them at.

And, of course, they sat next to each other.

* * *

After having checked into their hotel for the night and getting situated, Richie stated he needed to take a scalding hot shower.

And, no, Eddie hadn't counted on having to use the restroom during that time, but did it really matter?

The door to the bathroom was cracked open slightly and there was a cloud of steam surfacing from within, a testament to how hot the shower really was. As Eddie pushed the door open further, he caught a glance from beyond the other side of the curtain.

What he saw was a long, dark red abrasion going down the entire expanse of the other man's back.

The color of the wound was a stark contrast from the pale white skin of Richie's back. The abrasion was a deep, rich red and it looked so fucking angry, just barely scabbed over in few places, but open and sore in so many others.

It stretched from shoulder blade to shoulder blade and all the way down to the small of Richie's back, and Eddie couldn't stifle the small gasp that escaped his lips. _When the fuck had that happened?_

It looked so painful, and Eddie wondered absently to himself how Richie could possibly stand to take a shower so hot with a wound that severe. A shiver ran down Eddie's spine just thinking about it, and his hand raised to his own wounded cheek.

Without a word, Eddie retreated back into their room.

He could use the restroom later, he decided.

* * *

"What the fuck happened to your back, Richie?" Eddie said as soon as Richie walked out of the bathroom. He was already dressed in a long-sleeve cotton shirt and a pair of pajama pants. His damp hair was dripping down the back of his neck and already saturating the collar of his shirt.

Richie simply raised one eyebrow in a silent question as he walked across the room. "Checkin' me out while I was in the shower, ey, Eds?" he teased and he flopped down onto his own bed.

Eddie tried not to grimace, not because of Richie's words, but because he was once again picturing the extensive abrasion that covered Richie's back. The other seemed unaffected, however. "Doesn't that hurt? Like, really fucking bad?"

And, suddenly, Eddie remembered just how much he had pushed and picked at Richie all day. He wondered to himself if, at any point, he had inadvertently hurt the other man or made contact with the wound. A pang of guilt lodged itself in his throat as though it was something palpable.

"Not as bad as that time that your mom accidentally bent my dick while we were fuc-"

"_Beep-fucking-beep, Richie!_" Eddie cried, not ever wanting to hear the end of that sentence. He visibly shuddered and scowled at Richie. "Seriously, what happened?"

Richie simply shrugged and leaned himself back against the headboard of his bed. "Honestly, I don't completely remember. That whole fuckin' experience is a blur because I was freaking the fuck out so bad. I think it was after you ran to help Bill, I leaned again the rock and slid down." Richie shrugged again, looking thoughtful. "Must've happened then. Hurts like a sonovabitch though."

Eddie just watched him, thoughtful for a moment. Richie looked peaceful, almost small, as he leaned back against the headboard of his bed. His hair was still dripping water onto the back of his shirt and now his pillow, as well. His cheeks were rosy from his hot shower, and there were still traces of bruises all over his face and neck from several nights prior. He had a cut on the corner of his lip that was slowly beginning to heal.

Suddenly, Eddie wanted to go over to Richie. To place his thumb gently over the the cut on Richie's lip and ask him if it still hurt. He wanted to lift Richie's shirt and gently trace the large abrasion on his back, careful to do no harm. He wanted to take away any pain that existed there and replace it only with soft, gentle touches.

Eddie looked down and furrowed his brow at the thought, conflicted on what exactly it meant.

Eddie knew he was attracted to men; was more than willing to accept it at this point after so many years of repression (he hadn't just defeated a killer fucking clown to continue living a lie).

But what he was beginning to question was every interaction and moment he shared with Richie, not just now, but every moment he could conceivably recall.

He knew that he and Richie had a unique relationship-always had. That was just the way it was. But for how long had he subconsciously wondered what Richie's lips tasted like? Because he was certainly wondering that right this minute, and he wasn't dumb enough to assume that this was the first time that the thought had crossed his mind.

Repression was a hellova drug.

For a moment, he combed through a handful of interactions he and Richie shared, all the way from their childhood to right this second. He thought about how he always instinctively reached out to Richie, the gesture usually masked as one of vexation. Even something as simple as Richie throwing an arm around Eddie's shoulder spoke greater volumes than Eddie would have ever cared to admit in his past.

However, now, everything had changed.

Because four days ago, Eddie had almost died. And Richie had saved him.

And, quite frankly, Eddie was sufficiently tired of living the lie that he had apparently been living for the last 27 years of his life.

Eddie pulled himself from his thoughts and glanced over at Richie once more. At some point during Eddie's thoughtful self-revelation, Richie had fallen asleep.

He was still sitting upright against the headboard of his bed, but his head was hung forward with his hair in his face. His eyes were closed and his lips were only slightly parted, quiet snores escaping every few breaths. He looked peaceful which was, admittedly, very out of place for one Richie 'Trashmouth' Tozier.

Eddie took the opportunity to watch him for a moment, a small smile settling across his face. This man, he thought to himself, meant the whole fucking world to him. That was nothing new, Eddie was sure of that much. Realizing that his feelings may extend a bit deeper than he had ever imagined was something he could tackle at a later time. For now, they would sleep.

And no matter what, he knew he would _always _have Richie.

With one last grin, Eddie grabbed one of the pillows beside him and chucked it at Richie's head.

The pillow bounced off Richie's head with enough force to immediately startle Richie awake and knock his glasses askew. His head shot up at once, his eyes looking frightened for a moment before settling on Eddie.

Eddie tucked himself down into his blankets and grinned as Richie pouted at him. "That's payback for pulling me off the bed this morning," he said, teasing, smiling.

And Richie simply smiled right back, big and bright, and eased his way down into his own blankets. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he clucked. "Fuck you, Kaspbrak."

Eddie switched the lamp off, casting their room in darkness. "Ey, you wish, Tozier."

The last thing Eddie saw before closing his eyes was Richie's shit-eating grin.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thoughts and opinions are appreciated! Let me know what you guys think!

✌️


	2. i need something to rely on

Chapter Two: i'm getting old, and i need something to rely on.

* * *

Surprisingly, the next morning they were on the road by 10 a.m.

If the past couple days were any indication of how the rest of their trip would go, it would surely take them three weeks easy to get to their destination.

And it would most certainly be Eddie and Richie's fault.

During dinner last night, the six of them had decided on traveling cross country; that Long Beach would be a nice stopping point. There was a location in Glendale, California where they could return the rental car, then they could hop on the Metra to Beverly Hills, catch a cab to Richie's place, and pick up his car. It was about a two hour drive from Richie's house to Long Beach, so Eddie had started looking at hotels to reserve for the week.

After a bit of research, they were able to determine that it would take probably a week to get to Long Beach, maybe a little longer if they decided to off-track (which was becoming increasingly more likely the more Richie talked).

It was 11:10 a.m., and they had just pulled off the interstate to fill their gas tank and grab a few drinks.

And, despite being only an hour into their drive, Ben was already having to act as a buffer between Richie and Eddie. Which was proving to be quite difficult with the two of them in the back and him and Bev in the middle row.

His growing migraine was a testament to his thinning patience. He almost contemplated making Eddie switch places with Bev just to separate the two of them. They were like grade schoolers.

_Handsy, too_, Ben thought dully as he watched Eddie all but leap across the seat just to smack Richie upside the head.

"You're such a fuckhead, Richie!" Eddie, inexplicably, did not stop smacking Richie. And Richie simply covered his head with his arms to defend himself and laughed as though he had never witnessed anything so funny.

What had gotten Eddie so riled up in the first place was pitiful at best, yet another smart ass remark from Richie about his mother. Par for the course, really, but it was as though someone had lit a match under Eddie's ass. Eddie's reaction of assault had been almost immediate, and the gleeful look in Richie's eyes had suggested that he had gotten exactly what he had wanted.

It was almost as though Eddie was looking for an excuse to lean over and touch Richie. And it was almost as though Richie had intentionally handed it to him on a silver, shining platter.

Really, it wouldn't shock Ben in the slightest.

He pressed two fingertips to his temple and turned in his seat to watch them for a moment.

He watched as Eddie yet again pushed at Richie. This time, however, Richie had turned away from Eddie, so Eddie's flat hand collided with Richie's upper shoulder. Richie's face was hidden from Eddie. Ben, however, could see the devilish gleam in Richie's eyes as he hissed and recoiled from the touch as though it had stung him.

The reaction was instantaneous. Eddie's eyes widened almost comically, and his hands flew to his mouth. He looked absolutely horrified.

Ben simply watched in confusion and mild amusement.

"Oh my God, Richie, are you-" Eddie stumbled over his words, reaching out to Richie, then thinking better of it before yanking his hands back to his mouth. "Did I-?"

Releasing himself from his hunched position, Richie turned to face Eddie and grinned at him, laughing a little under his breath. "So fuckin' easy, Eds."

At this, there was a new anger alight in Eddie's eyes, all traces of horror and what had appeared to be remorse now gone.

"You motherfucker!" Eddie seethed.

Once again, he was smacking at Richie, pushing him, but his actions were halfhearted and, if anything, the touches appeared almost gentle.

Ben had no idea what was happening, and figured there was no sense in trying to understand them. He simply sighed and turned in his seat, attempting to tune out the angry growls from behind him.

* * *

They drove for ten straight hours.

They end up at a little bed and breakfast in Richmond Heights, a small suburb of St. Louis, Missouri. Prices in the St. Louis region were astronomical, and even the dive hotels right off the interstate were asking almost $150.00 per night.

Eddie said he refused to pay almost two hundred dollars to get bed bugs, which Richie thought was unbelievably hysterical.

_"Where's your sense of adventure, Eds! A few cockroaches never hurt anyone!"_

The bed and breakfast they found was perfectly suited for their needs: three bedrooms at an affordable rate for two nights. They had planned on staying the weekend there, and taking a cab into the city for drinks Saturday night.

They pulled up to the little cottage, appropriately called Richmond Height's B&B, around midnight on Friday. Everyone in the car was sore and stiff-it had been close to four hours since their last pit stop in Indianapolis.

As Eddie crawled from his spot in the middle row of the Tahoe, he swore he could hear his bones and joints groan.

"Four hours without standing up was an awful idea," Ben cried as he held onto his hips and twisted his back. The vertebrae that ran up his spine offered a satisfying crack as he stretched.

"A wee lil stiff, ey, Haystack?" Richie piped in a poorly Irish accent.

Quite frankly, they were all a little tired-in general and of each other. As fond as the sentiment could possibly be, they were all driving each other a little crazy. Short drive for Richie and Eddie. Which was entirely why they got roomed together.

Richie and Eddie walked to their room that night in a comfortable silence. They had been at each other's throats all afternoon until the moment that Eddie had fallen into a deep, pitiful sleep on Richie's shoulder. He had been eerily quiet ever since he had woken from him impromptu nap.

The bed and breakfast was antiquated and cozy. It was owned by an elderly man and woman who, after a brief conversation, they learned had been married and offering their house to strangers for the last forty years. The elderly woman, Grace, explained that she couldn't have children and hated the thought of having an empty home. So, thus they opened their doors to the many travelers of the world, eager to meet new people and hear their stories.

Richie led the way down the short hall, and Eddie slumped slowly behind him, as though there was an invisible rope tied to his waist and pulling him backwards. Their room was the last one at the end of the hallway, and there was a small lamp perched carefully on a plant stand right next to the doorway. It offered a very warm glow to their surroundings which only served to make Eddie impossibly more tired.

As Richie opened the door to the single bedroom, his jaw fell only slightly before he caught himself. Inside the small room was simply one queen sized bed. Eddie inelegantly stumbled past him, knocking into Richie as he went, and fell onto the bed. His bag had been dropped carelessly in the doorway and he hadn't even managed to properly land himself on the mattress. His right leg and arm dangled from the bed and his face pressed deeply into the comforter beneath him. His eyes were closed, mouth hung open slightly. Richie watched.

"Guess we're sharing, ey, Eds?" Richie offered, and a timid chuckle escaped his lips.

Eddie hummed softly and offered no additional response.

At this, any uncertainty Richie had felt at the prospect of sharing a bed with Eddie melted slowly away, and in its place was a warmth so consuming Richie suddenly felt as though he was burning up.

And the uncertainty he had felt was not discomfort at the idea of sharing a bed, an intimate space, with his best friend, no. It was entirely the opposite.

Richie knew he was thoroughly and intensively in love with Eddie Kaspbrak. And that very obvious sentiment had only been solidified by the near miss that had almost resulted in Eddie's death. Faced with the possibility of living a life without Eddie (_again_, his mind offered pathetically. _Again, because for so long you had forgotten him_.) had nearly crippled him.

He could still remember moment that he was dropped from where he had been suspended in the air; still feel the way his head had bounced off the rocks beneath him, knocking the breath right from him lungs. He could still see the shine in Eddie's eyes as he had leaned over him, the moment that Richie realized what was about to happen.

No, Richie was absolutely not uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with Eddie. Entirely the opposite; he was uncomfortable with the thought of accidentally being much too _obvious_ in his affections.

Eddie was married, and despite what he had said previously about seeking a separation, the implication was still there and it hung heavily over Richie's head. A not so gentle reminder. Eddie was not into men.

Richie brought a hand up to his face and slid it carefully down the growth of stubble that lived there. That initial uncertainty returned to him oh-so-slightly. A soft sigh escaped him and he gathered Eddie's abandoned suit case and carried it further into the room with his own.

For a few moments that Richie refused to acknowledge as elusion, he paced around the room; grabbed the remote, turned the television on, and set the volume as low as it would go. Turn it off shortly thereafter. He went to the restroom outside of their room, changed into pajamas. Tried to subdue his messy, curly hair. Checked his stubble in the mirror, and mildly entertained the idea of a quick shave.

Suddenly, he couldn't ignore it for what it really was. Richie was avoiding going to bed, and he was so fucking tired that he could feel it weighing heavily in his bones.

He sighed again and returned to their bedroom.

Eddie was still lopsided on the bed with half of his limbs dangling in a way that would almost certainly restrict blood flow. Richie couldn't help but smile.

"Eds?" Richie said as he carefully approached the sleeping man. He reached his hand out and pressed it to Eddie's shoulder blade. "Buddy, you need to, like...move. That can't be comfortable."

Eddie simply grunted and rolled his face into the comforter.

At this, Richie laughed._ So fuckin' stubborn_.

Carefully, Richie rolled Eddie so that he was better positioned on the bed. Then he carefully pulled the blankets down, nudged Eddie and told him to lift his hips and legs. Eventually, and Richie's not entirely sure how, he managed to get Eddie beneath the blankets.

It was a lot for an already exhausted man.

Richie heaved a sigh of relief at the feat and crawled into his side of the bed.

Within a matter of moments, the stubborn, formerly unmoving body of Eddie Kaspbrak very pointedly rolled over beneath the covers and slung his arm across Richie's chest. He buried his face into Richie's shoulder and offered a small sign of contentment.

It took every ounce of strength Richie had to not release the startled moan that threatened to escape in that moment. His muscles were tense, uncertain once more and afraid to move.

He chanced a careful glance down at the sleeping body currently molded to his side. Eddie had an almost soft look on his face, which was invariably different from the normal expression of scorn and irritation he almost always had set in place when him and Richie were interacting. Richie knew it was all for show, a part of their game, but _this_, oh this was something else entirely.

Eddie's defenses were down, he was vulnerable in every way; Richie was suddenly struck with a vivid memory of when they were children and Eddie had a panic attack down by the Barrens. He had accidentally left his inhaler at home, and he had nothing in that moment to calm his ever fraying nerves. Except Richie. Richie had been there, and had talked him down from his panic.

That was almost the same look of vulnerability as he had right now, except different still. That had been a moment of immense distress-this was a moment of immense peace, and Eddie looked so fucking soft Richie wanted to reach out and touch him.

He sighed and forced his muscles to relax.

These were not demons he wanted to face, currently; he had faced enough in the last week, he was sure of it, and this was _too much._

So Richie closed his eyes and willed himself into a restless sleep.

* * *

Eddie awoke to the unfamiliar sensation of a warm body pressed securely against his. He blinked; the room was dark and it took him several moments to gather his bearings to know exactly where he was.

While he glanced around the dark room, he was careful not to wake the sleeping body next to him. He only vaguely remembered arriving at the Bed & Breakfast; in his mind, there were mere bits and pieces of walking into the room he suspected he was in now. Paying no mind whatsoever to the lacking accommodations for two grown men, Eddie had only hazy memories of falling onto to the single queen sized bed in the room and succumbing to sleep.

Now, however, as he glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table next to him, he was acutely aware that _yes_, he was laying in a rather small bed next to one Richie Tozier. And, yes, he was pressed firmly into the side of the other man. And while he was at it, he was also abruptly aware that his arm was thrown carelessly across Richie's chest.

Eddie swallowed hard, and stared at the flashing red digits on the digital clock. It was 3:47 in the morning.

It took him several moments to fully orient himself to his surroundings. Eddie was not only pressed hard into Richie's side with his arm slung across his chest, but he also had his head tucked carefully into Richie's neck. If he so desired, in that moment, Eddie could taste Richie's pulse point. The thought sent a shudder down Eddie's spine, settling as a warm tingle at the very tip of his toes.

It was an enticing thought, and Eddie licked his lips as his eyes focused on the soft beating flesh of Richie's neck. As he stared, he considered for a brief moment whether or not it was perverse for him to be having these thoughts while Richie slept peacefully next to him.

However, to paint Richie Tozier as any shade of innocence would be absolutely absurd-paradoxical, at best.

Richie was nothing if not vulgar, offensive, and evocative.

There was very little that Eddie could ever do to really jar Richie. When they were younger, he remembered now, it had become a game between the two of them. _'Who could get under the other's skin the most?'_

Looking back, it was like a rampant game of chicken with little to no boundaries whatsoever.

Eddie grinned devilishly and remembered earlier in the day when Richie had pretended that Eddie had hurt him with the pushing and shoving. It had sent a terror so cold through Eddie's veins that, at the time, he had felt almost frozen in place. The idea that he had actually caused _harm_ to Richie was stifling-there was no other way to describe it.

But, turns out, the devious fucker had just been messing with him.

And Eddie suspected that now was as good of a time as any to pay the favor back.

With so little thought to his actions and what it actually could insinuate, Eddie licked his lips once more and latched them onto the milky smooth skin of Richie's neck.

It only took a moment. Eddie pressed his lips more firmly to Richie's pulse point and allowed his tongue to carefully graze the pliant skin there. He could feel the beat of Richie's heart beneath his teeth, ever so gently there, and the feeling caused a primal sort of growl to build deep in his stomach.

Within that moment, Richie was awake. And stricken. He swallowed hard, and Eddie could feel the way his throat moved and constricted. If anything, it made the growl that was building deep inside him strengthen and threaten to escape. Suddenly, Eddie was absolutely _drunk_ on the feeling of Richie beneath his lips, vulnerable and unsuspecting. Once more, his tongue escaped to taste the skin of Richie's neck.

Richie was perfectly still. "Eddie?" he questioned after another moment of Eddie's gentle sucking. His voice was impossibly strangled as though there was a tight noose around his neck rather than Eddie's soft and oh-so-gentle lips. Eddie grinned against the skin there; this was exactly the reaction he had wanted. "Eddie," Richie repeated once more, and Eddie couldn't ever remember hearing Richie sound so diminutive and uncertain. "What are you doing?"

After another small moment of gently sucking at Richie's neck, and Eddie pulled away, far enough to look at Richie. He shrugged. "Fucking with you."

Richie looked absolutely dumbfounded. He released a stifled sort of choke, a noise Eddie wasn't sure he had ever heard come from the other man. "You," Richie started, still sounding as though he was just barely able to get the words out. "You're fucking with me...by...assaulting my neck..." He was breathing rapidly now, and Eddie was trying so fucking hard not to laugh. "With your _tongue_?"

I mean.

I guess when it was spoken back to him, in quite so many words, it did sound a little _provocative_.

Eddie shrugged again. "Looks like it worked," he said, and laughed.

Richie simply stared at him and released another sort of choked gasp. "Eddie!"

Feeling sheepish, suddenly, Eddie ducked his head and somehow thought it was an okay idea to situate himself on Richie shoulder once more. At least now Richie wasn't watching him with that overwhelming sense of amazement. Eddie carefully nuzzled his face into Richie's neck yet again, the spot that he had woken up in and the same spot he had just been sucking on. Mentioning that there was the slightest of bruises there probably wasn't the greatest idea right now, but Eddie smiled no less. He thought no deeper into why the though of _his_ hickey being on Richie's neck thrilled him so much.

"Eddie," Richie said again, this time more carefully. "People don't _do that_."

Eddie felt emboldened now that Richie's eyes weren't boring into his own. "Do what?" he questioned innocently.

Richie offered another strangled noise that Eddie couldn't quite decipher. "How would you like it if I started licking up the side of your neck!" he whisper-shouted as though he had no idea what else to say.

Eddie lifted himself to look at Richie again, quirking one eyebrow. "Buddy, you do shit I don't like all the time."

It was silent for several long moments, Richie simply staring at Eddie as though he was looking for all of the answers in his brown, puppy-dog eyes. Eddie looked back innocently, as though challenging Richie. However, if you had asked Eddie in that moment, he would have told you he had no idea what kind of challenge he was offering to Richie.

Richie swallowed hard before answering quietly. "What if I did like it?"

It meant something more, but Eddie refused to acknowledge it; he knew they were treading thin ice, that something was gonna give at some point, but for now, he was perfectly fine to ignore the implication of not only his action but Richie's response to said action. A noise escaped his lips that sounded like a mixture of a scoff and a chuckle. He nuzzled his way back into Richie's side and secured his face into Richie's neck for the third time that night. His arm was still haphazardly draped over Richie's chest, and Richie's arm was carefully draped over his shoulders. It was certainly an intimate position, there was no denying that much.

"Then what are you bitching about?" Eddie offered as an answer and nuzzled his face deeper into Richie's neck.

It did not go unnoticed by Eddie how all of what seemed like tension melted entirely out of Richie's body. His form slackened next to him, and Richie eased into the embrace. A quiet sort of contentment seemed to settle over the both of them in that moment.

And, thus, their game truly began.

* * *

**Author's Note**: A bit shorter than the first one; it felt right to end it here, though. Hoping next update will come sooner than this one did. Hoping this story doesn't end up astronomically long. It seems to keep growing somehow. Hope you guys enjoyed. Let me know. ✌️


	3. so tell me when you're going to let me

Chapter Three: so tell me when you're going to let me in

* * *

The next night at drinks was the next time Eddie's antics had been acknowledged by either one of them.

When they had woken up the next morning, they had both been sprawled over the whole bed. In fact, Eddie's hand had somehow landed on Richie's face in the night and Richie had woken up startled and under the assumption that, at some point in the night, he had gone blind.

However, now, each of them six or so drinks deep, it was so easy to acknowledge the previous night's events.

Eddie and Richie were currently seated at the bar by themselves. Bev had excused herself to the restroom; Ben was attempting to chase down the bartender to order Bev another drink before she returned, and Mike and Bill were carefully huddled around the TouchTunes machine that was currently spitting out music from the 80's.

Eddie squinted his eyes and leaned into Richie's space. Being smaller, he was likely more inebriated than Richie was, but truthfully, that wasn't saying much, because Richie's head was spinning. "You have a small bruise on your neck," Eddie said, pointing and grinning.

Richie turned to grin back at him. "Gee," he started. "Wonder what that's from, huh?"

"Bev's been looking at you all day," Eddie slurred his words only slightly. "Suspiciously, like."

"Who's fault is that, Eduardo?" Richie raised his whiskey sour to his lips and downed the rest of it before shoving the glass to the bar's edge.

The previous night had sent a cataclysmic shock wave all the way through to Richie's core. He had woken from his restless state of unconscious to the feeling of something warm pressing ever so carefully against his neck, a gentle caress, a warm tongue tasting the skin there.

And, for just a single moment, Richie had been as fixed in place as he had been when he was suspended in the deadlights.

In that moment, awareness crept to him like a monster in the night. _Eddie_.

The arm wrapped around his torso. The hand pressed firmly against his abdomen, nails digging. The soft tickle of an unruly curl against his jaw. The pressure of warm, _warm_ lips against his neck, moving delicately as though calligraphy across a blank sheet of paper. The silken tongue escaping from those lips and traveling across his own neck as though it belonged there.

_Eddie_.

It was all Eddie.

And it was in that very moment that Richie's brain short circuited.

It took every ounce of strength that he had to muster the words that he had spoken. He summoned up any remaining composure still had buried deep inside of him, and shoved the words out as though they were rejected from his body.

The rasp in his voice was almost painful; or, maybe, it was the way that suddenly every muscle inside him had gone so rigid that it felt like a full body cramp.  
After, Richie had not gone back to sleep for a long time.

He had laid awake for hours, Eddie still securely pressed against his side-this time by choice, not just by his sleep-induced tossing and turning. His tense muscles eased slowly through those hours, and he listened carefully as Eddie's breathing evened pace.

Even his thoughts seemed to be choked up by what had happened.

Try as he might, he shoved and suppressed and tried so desperately to not let something as toxic as hope build somewhere deep inside of him.

Eddie had said it himself, he was messing with Richie.

If Richie fucked around and, for even one second, let himself think that _maybe_ Eddie could possibly feel something even remotely close to what Richie felt for him, well...his heart would be well and truly broken when it all turned out to be farce.

Not that he thought Eddie would ever intentionally play with his feelings. No, he knew Eddie cared for him as deeply as one friend could possibly care for another. Eddie would never willfully hurt him. That much was evident from Eddie's shear look of panic when he had thought he had hurt Richie earlier that day.

But Eddie couldn't _possibly_ now just how much, and in what way, that Richie cared for him. If Richie allowed himself to get invested-to _hope_-it would come crashing down around him the moment Eddie laughed it off as a joke, unknowing of the damage it would cause.

And in that utterly terrifying scenario, Richie would have to quietly compose himself and not let any of the pain escape. Never would he lay himself out to be rejected by the one person who meant more than the world to him. He had survived a demon clown trying valiantly to kill him, but Richie isn't confident he could survive that _type_ of pain.

No, if that happened, it would be a devastation known only to Richie.

It was mind-boggling to Richie: that he could suddenly harbor these feelings of such intensity for a person he had entirely forgotten about for 27 years. However, the more he assessed himself and all that he had remembered, Richie realized that he had been walking around as a shell of a person for the last two and a half decades.

These feelings and memories inside of him had always been there, but they had been buried so deep it was as though they were missing. It had left him feeling empty and lost, a ghost of something that used to be just beyond reach of his fingertips.

The moment he answered that phone call from Mike, it was as though the floodgates had opened and he was suddenly filled to the brim with warmth and happiness and _feeling_.

And, _God_, did he feel now. Every passing minute he spent with Eddie he realized more and more what love felt like.

Richie shook his head to clear his thoughts. He was drunk now, and this was not the time to be having these thoughts. He glanced to Eddie who was now scrolling on his phone, paying no attention to his surroundings. He had a scowl on his face.

He swallowed hard, grabbed his empty glass and raised it to catch the bartender's attention. Just from a quick glace, Richie caught that Bill, Mike, Ben, and Beverly were now all seated at a booth right next to the modern day jukebox.  
"What can I get ya?" the bartender questioned as he approached.

"Another whiskey sour. Make it a double this time," Richie croaked. His voice was raw. His thoughts spun through his head like rampant demons. Maybe drinks was a bad idea; somehow that didn't stop him from ordering another.

Richie had slipped up when he had insinuated that he had liked what Eddie had been doing the night before. It was dangerous, and after Eddie had fallen back to sleep, Richie worked hard to snuff out even the faintest flame of hope that had surfaced.

_Bad, bad, bad_. This was all just like treading on a very thin sheet of ice.

He coughed and once more tried to will the thoughts from his head. He couldn't handle this right now.

"Whatcha doin' there, Eds?" he said, turning his head to stare at the other.

Eddie was still scowling and he looked about as fierce a flustered, angry kitten that would lash out one minute and then purr and rub against your palm in the next.

Jesus Christ, Richie loved him so much.

"Fuckin'..." he started to say and then abruptly tossed his phone onto the bar counter with a heavy sigh. He waved his hand to draw the bartender's attention. "Hey, uh, can I get a shot of patron with a lime?"

It was obvious that whatever Eddie had been doing on his phone had set him on edge. Richie waited patiently for him to continue his previous thought and tried not to watch the way Eddie's throat worked as he took his shot.

"It's fucking Myra," Eddie said finally, and he sounded so tired. "I literally just wish I could end it now, get it fucking over with, but I'm not so much of an asshole that I'd do it over the phone."

Richie thought for a moment. He really hated seeing Eddie stressed out.

"Well," Richie started, hoping that he wasn't overstepping by not consulting with the other's first. "Aren't we like a four hour drive from Chicago? I mean, it'd be a small backtrack, but we could head up there...let you resolve your business before heading to Cali."

Eddie dropped his head into his hand and watched Richie. "I couldn't ask you guys to do that."

"I mean," Richie started with a chuckle. "They had kind of been expecting me to slow us down with detours, so we got a little extra time. Not stopping at the World's Largest Killer Bee would be worth it for you to get your shit in order."

At that, Eddie grinned wide, all traces of annoyance retreating from his features. "Gee, Richie, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." That slight slur that had been present before had returned, probably with a little help from the patron, and Richie smiled. The warmth of alcohol settled over him as well, and he sipped his double whiskey sour, chasing the sensation-wanting the thoughts from earlier to leave his head.

Eddie chuckled beside him. "Y'know, that bruise _is_ really dark...and, call a spade a spade, you can definitely tell what it is."

With what looked like no thought whatsoever, Eddie raised his hand and used his pointer finger to gently trace the bruise at Richie's pulse point.

Richie swallowed hard, feeling like there was a lump in his throat and cut his glance over to Eddie. He tried so damned hard to sound light-hearted when he spoke. "Well, maybe you shouldn't go around sucking on the necks of the innocent."

At that, Eddie barked out a sharp laugh. His eyes were bright suddenly, as though there was a fire in them, a gleam of something that made Richie nervous.

Never had Richie thought he would feel like prey to Eddie, but oh _fuck_, he did right now.

"You are anything _but_ innocent, Tozier."

Richie dipped his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, I'm the epitome of-"

Eddie leaned toward him sharply, invading his personal space and efficiently cutting him off from his words. "Ah, ah, ah," Eddie tutted. "Not fooling me. You told me you liked it."

That fire in Eddie's eyes grew, and Richie couldn't take his eyes away his lips. Somehow, and just like a predator, Eddie had caught Richie's moment of weakness the night before and latched onto it. Richie swallowed hard, something hot sizzling inside him. The air between them, and there wasn't much, was suddenly thick and heady.

Warning alarms were going off in Richie's head. Abort. Back off. Bad, bad, _bad_.

He latched onto that suddenly moment of clarity and leaned away from Eddie. "Uh," he coughed again, clearing his throat. "I'm, uh, gonna head to the restroom real quick."

With that, Richie quickly stood from his spot at the bar and tried not to flinch at the way the bar stool scratched against the floor. He was high-strung and hyper-aware suddenly. The blood in his veins burned hot.  
Richie didn't dear glance at Eddie as he hastily turned and walked toward the restroom.

He had been treading on thin ice before but now, oh _now_, it was starting to crack beneath his feet.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Richie was at the sink with the water turned on cold. He needed to cool down, his face was on _fire_.

Taking deep breaths as he went, Richie splashed the cold water on his face and tried to focus solely on that rather than how tight his jeans had become.

His face was in his hands, dripping cold water into the sink, when Richie heard the sound of the door opening behind him. He didn't dare look up, and his heart skipped in his chest when he heard the sound of the door's lock clicking into place.

Finally, Richie swallowed hard and let his hands fall from his face. He raised his head and tried to summon ever ounce of strength he possibly had as he turned around. He didn't need to look to know who it was; he could feel that sizzling energy from out in the bar now filling the small room around him.

As he turned, he backed himself up as far as he could until his thighs were pressed against the sink counter. Something like fear, but not quite fear, was working its way though the vessels in his heart. He felt like it was going to fall out of his mouth.

"What's the matter, Richie?" Eddie said, and he smirked a predatory smirk. However, Eddie's eyes held a warmth and seriousness that seemed to negate that. They were inviting and comforting and they looked like home and Richie wanted so fucking badly to fall right into them.

His heart and his fucking soul.

In that moment, Richie could see the undercurrent to everything Eddie did and said. The tenderness that existed behind the challenge.

And, God, if there was anything that could break Richie's resolve, it was that _right there_.

He felt weak in the knees seeing it, and leaned his hands back against the sink counter to brace himself.

The look in Eddie's eyes was stifling. So many emotions of every different color existed there. There was playfulness and laughter, there was concern and careful regard, there was the promise of comfort, and _God_, there was this hunger so blatant that Richie could feel heat pool in his stomach.

Without waiting for a reply, Eddie walked toward Richie until he was yet again invading his space. Richie tried to swallow, but even that simple action was just too much for his short-circuited brain.

"Well?" Eddie incited, but his voice was softer now.

Richie mumbled unintelligibly, and that's all he could offer. He was surprised he could give even that much.

Eddie raised his hand and pressed it against Richie's chest. "Your heart's beating really fast, Rich," Eddie said, and the concern that coated his every word almost made Richie cry. Then Eddie carefully slid his hand up to Richie's neck, cupping it in the back. "Well, I liked it, too."

And Richie had no idea what Eddie was talking about but he couldn't seem to say as much.

"I liked biting and sucking and kissing at your neck," Eddie clarified, presumably seeing the confusion over Richie's face. "I like seeing that mark on you and knowing that I put it there."

A shot of blinding hot electricity shot down Richie's spine at that and right into his dick. He was locked in place, though, and no words could escape him, just a strangled sort of moan. The alarm bells in his mind were blaring at this point, but he just needed them to shut up because he couldn't _think_.

"C'mon, Richie," Eddie whined, and again Richie felt it in his dick. It was probably the hottest sound he had ever heard, and it was his name from the lips of the person he wanted the most. If his brain hadn't already short-circuited it would have at that. It was shooting sparks, at this point.

Richie found his voice then, as strangled as it may have been. "What do you want from me, Eds?"

Eddie brought his other hand to Richie's chest and watched him from beneath his eyelashes. The look in his eyes answered that question one hundred times over.

Richie was grasping as every last bit of willpower he had left. That small voice in his head was screaming at him to pull away.

_Tell him no, tell him. He'll drop it and let it be, you know he will. He won't ever mention it again if you tell him you don't want to. If not, you're going to fall face first. Crash and burn, Trashmouth._

And Richie knew it was the truth. If he gave any sort of indication that this was not something he wanted, Eddie would back off in a heartbeat, probably all the while fretting about misreading things. Eddie was always, _always_, looking out for Richie. And if, for even a moment, he thought he overstepped, he would be immediately contrite.

Eddie was still glancing at him from beneath his eyelashes, watching him as though searching for all the answers to life's questions. For just a moment, Eddie looked sheepish and uncertain, and any remaining resolve Richie had crumbled at his very feet.

They both had a lot of drinks, and surely Eddie could feel the steady thrum of alcohol moving through his veins the same way Richie could.

If nothing else, he could always blame the alcohol.

He had no control over it any longer; the need, want, _hunger_ deep inside him drove him forward and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was a simple man with everything he ever wanted right at his fingertips. He was powerless to stop it.

Richie lunged forward and caught Eddie's lip in a rough, bruising kiss.

Eddie's response to push forward simply deepened the kiss and made it all the more forceful, teeth colliding and biting lips. Richie was sure the cut on his lip was bleeding, but he didn't, _couldn't_, care because suddenly, everything around him was _Eddie, Eddie, Eddie_.

His hands were buried in Eddie's hair, holding him in place as they continued to fight with each other, tongues sliding together. Eddie's hand still carefully cupped the back of Richie's neck, pulling him down and closer, as though it just wasn't enough.

Heat burned hot through Richie's entire body, and he couldn't get enough of it. Eddie tasted like tequila and lime and something a little sweeter than that, and Richie was more drunk from that than any of the alcohol he'd had that night.

The entire room was vibrating and the way that Eddie kissed him back made Richie weak in the knees yet again. Just from kissing alone, just from the shear energy in the room, Richie's dick was so hard it was fucking _painful_. He needed more, couldn't get enough, ran his tongue along Eddie's and wanted so badly to taste every inch of him.

Suddenly, and entirely too soon, Richie pulled away gasping for air, trying so hard to breath in as much as he could so he could go back in for more. But Eddie had moved down the side of his neck and was biting at the bruise he had left the previous night. He sucked right at the juncture of Richie's shoulder and neck, and Richie had to stifle a moan because it was easily one of the most erotic things he had ever experienced.

"Oh, _fuck_," he growled instead when Eddie's teeth scraped across the sensitive flesh, and God, he'd give Eddie the whole fucking world, moon, stars, everything if he wanted it.

Richie grasped onto Eddie's jaw on the opposite side of his wounded cheek, and roughly pulled him back up to his lips.

_More, more, more_. Richie crashed his lips against Eddie's once again, and immediately they were in sync with one another, moving at a hurried and desperate pace. Richie was vaguely aware of Eddie's tight grasp on the front of his shirt. It was balled into a fist, pulling him impossibly closer.

They couldn't get close enough, needed more, so much more, and one of Richie's hands dropped to the hem of Eddie's shirt. His hand danced beneath the fabric for a moment, savoring the anticipation before pressing it firmly against Eddie's bare hip.

It was electric.

Eddie's skin was on fire, and Richie moaned into the kiss. Richie guided Eddie's hips towards his until they were flush together. His finger traced lazy circles against the small of Eddie's back and he hummed in contentment at the new pressure in all the right places from having Eddie so close.

Suddenly, whatever hypnotic spell had fallen over them shattered to the ground as someone pounded at the bathroom door. They sprang apart immediately, flushed and flustered and breathing as though they had just finished a marathon.

"Fuck," Richie said, eloquently. And then louder, "_fuck_."

His hands flew to his hair, and his gaze shot up to meet Eddie's.

Fear coiled deep in his stomach now, cold and replacing the warmth that had just been there. This was not good. This was _bad_, his brain supplied uselessly.

Eddie suddenly looked protective and pacifying all at once. "It's fine, it's okay," he hushed, and the soothing tone of his voice almost made Richie's fear falter. "There's two stalls, I'll go in one and wait a few minutes before coming out. You go now."

And Richie almost started laughing right then and there.

Because Eddie thought Richie was freaking out because he didn't want to get caught.

_Fuck_ getting caught. Richie had just allowed every last bit of his resolve to crumble and he had given in to the one thing he wanted more than anything. His heart had soared at the feeling of Eddie's tongue moving against his, the way Eddie had melted into his touch. And now he would _crave_ it, and it wasn't his to crave.

There was no more wondering what Eddie tasted like, because _now_ he knew. And that information would single-handedly destroy him from the inside out.

Whatever this was, a game, drunken antics, it was not meant to be serious, that much Richie felt certain of.

His head was spinning and not from the alcohol. He felt painfully sober, and his hands tugged at his hair in quiet desperation. _Why, why, why did you _do _that?_

Richie knew his eyes were blown wide with fear, and Eddie watched him like he was watching a rabid dog. "_Richie_," he hissed softly so not to be heard by the person on the other side of the door. "Buddy, we've gotta do something, okay? Go out there and wait for me."

With that, Eddie hid in one of the two available bathroom stalls.

And Richie?

Well, Richie flew out of the bathroom door and right through the bar's front door in one swift movement.

* * *

**Author's Note: **If you're wondering 'The World's Largest Killer Bee" is a real thing.

Hope you guys enjoyed. Let me know what you think!


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